


A Very Long Time

by persephone622



Series: Actions Speak Louder [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone622/pseuds/persephone622
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Remy have been friends for years, but deeper feelings finally come to the surface after a rather embarrassing intrusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this on my tumblr a few months ago.
> 
> Takes place in 2019 in the Colorado forest. The hotel mentioned is not real, as far as I know, but it exists for this story. Anything else, I'm pretty sure, is explained within the story itself. Time/POV jumps are denoted by "* * * * *"
> 
> Explicit language and sexual situations, and some fluffy angst. Or angsty fluff. One of the two. Possibly both.

Tom sighed as he slid out of the black sedan, a peaceful feeling coming over him quickly as he took in the familiar house before him. It had been a long few months, what with the new movie just wrapping up filming and the many premieres that Luke had shuffled him to in order to keep him in the public eye. The next week was going to be absolute bliss, the acreage that surrounded the quaint hotel always able to soothe him like no other place on earth. Oh, he loved London, the city of his birth and childhood and now adulthood, but sometimes he needed to get away from the bustle of the city. He was extremely grateful to Robert for introducing him to this place.

“Shall I carry these inside for you, sir?” came a voice at his shoulder, Tom turning to see his driver standing beside him with a bag gripped in each hand.

He smiled. “No need, Henry,” he replied, taking the bags before the young man could protest. “And it’s Tom, remember?”

“Yes, sir,” Henry replied. “Tom.” He gave him a sheepish smile.

“No worries, mate,” Tom said, giving him a friendly nudge as the door to the house opened. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

“Tom!” The owner of the motherly voice smiled at him as she descended the stairs, arms outstretched. “Welcome back!”

He grinned, meeting her sparkling dark blue eyes and reveling in the welcoming warmth he found in their depths. “Hello, Eileen,” he returned, stepping into her embrace. This was one of the biggest draws of the place: the easy, familial atmosphere that the owners created. He was treated like part of the family, not a celebrity. It wasn’t like his profession was off-limits but they didn’t treat him with the borderline obsession that the press and his fans generally did. They listened to him talk about what he could concerning his films or interviews, but it was nothing more than standard dinner conversation. “You look stunning, as always.”

The older woman blushed, the color spreading from the roots of her slightly graying brown hair over her cheeks and down her neck. “Such a charmer, Tom,” she teased, smacking his arm lightly as she pulled back. “I’m surprised we have yet to see you here with someone.” Her eyebrow arched suggestively.

Tom sighed, amused more than exasperated. “You know, if I had wanted my love life inspected, I would have brought my mother over from London,” he teased.

Eileen waved him off, taking his teasing for what it was. “Mothers are the same universally, dear,” she replied. “Remy is determined to prove that meddling is embedded in our genes.” He felt himself react to the name as her gaze slid over his shoulder to where Henry still stood, his own suitcase now in his hand. “Henry?” The young man started, surprised. “Luke called to let us know to make up a second room. You’re both in the barn.” She gestured for them to follow, turning down the path that led to the second building. Henry shot him a look, Tom simply nodding for him to move. He’d have to remember to thank Luke for not relegating the boy to a hotel in town. “Steven went into town for some groceries, should be back any second, and we want you both to join us for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tom replied, smirking at Henry’s befuddled look. “Things are a bit different here, Henry, my lad. Family dinner on the first night is non-negotiable.”

Eileen laughed. “Don’t worry,” she reassured, patting the young man’s arm. “It’s the only time we force our routine on you. The rest of the time, you’re free to do as you please, but the invitation is open.” She gave Henry a smile as he stepped forward and opened the door to the barn before she could, her appreciation clear in her expression. “You’re both upstairs.”

Footsteps suddenly clattered loudly on said stairs, stopping abruptly as the owner stepped into view of the doorway. On the staircase stood a young woman, her maroon-streaked chestnut hair pulled back into a high ponytail, wispy tendrils framing her face. Her cheeks were flushed slightly from activity and her blue-gray eyes were wide as she took in the trio. Tom drank in the sight of her, a nervous feeling suddenly appearing in his gut. She was as beautiful as he recalled. “Hello,” she murmured, her voice soft. Her gaze flickered over her mother and Henry to settle on him, their eyes meeting and holding. He smiled warmly at her.

“Remy,” Eileen called, pulling the woman’s gaze back to her. “All finished?”

“Yes, Mom,” she replied, continuing down the stairs at a much slower pace. “Eagle Pointe and Savannah are ready.”

Tom smirked, shaking his head and glancing between the two women as Remy stopped in front of them. “Savannah?” he asked. “You know you didn’t need to do that.” He turned his gaze back to the younger woman and found it difficult to look away.

Remy gave him a wry look, arching an eyebrow. “You’re her favorite guest, Tom,” she teased. “Sometimes, I even think she likes you more than she does me. Of course she’s going to make up your favorite room. And, of course, we’ll have your favorite meal for supper.”

“Remy!” Eileen protested, making Tom laugh and even Henry chuckle. “That was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Was it?” she asked innocently, with a far-from-innocent twinkle in her eye.

“You two spoil me far too much,” he accused. “By the time I leave here, I’ll have to run twice a day just to work off all the extra weight.” He shot Henry a knowing look. “Her food is the stuff of gods.”

“Says the God of Lies,” Remy quipped, earning her a light, playful smack from both Eileen and Tom.

“See if I let you have dessert, little lady,” Eileen chastised. “I recall you are quite fond of my homemade wild berry pie.”

Remy’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “I take it all back,” she gushed. “You’re the best cook I know.”

Eileen laughed and leaned over to give her daughter an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Smart girl,” she approved. “Now, Tom, you know where your room is but I’ll take Henry here, let you two catch up.” She gave Remy a wink that made him furrow his brow in curiosity, but she and Henry were up the stairs and away before he could react properly.

The younger woman looked exasperated when he turned to face her, but quickly covered it with a genuine smile. “Hello, Tom,” she greeted warmly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming when we talked a few days ago?”

He thrilled to the sound of his name on her lips. “Hello, Remy,” he replied. “I thought you would already know, to be honest.”

“Of course I did, but it would have been nice to hear it from the horse’s mouth,” she chastised.

Tom ducked his head, hearing the barest hint of disapproval and hurt in her tone. “You’re right,” he allowed. “I apologize.”

Remy chuckled, sparing a quick glance at the clock on the wall over his shoulder. “Not here even ten minutes and you’re already apologizing,” she teased. “I may keep a tally while you’re here.”

He laughed, a bright, genuine sound that he hadn’t heard from his lips in many months. The thought that Remy was the one that caused it brought him no discomfort whatsoever. “I fear you may lose count well before my week is up,” he shot back. She laughed. “How’s the writing?”

Remy’s face lit up in the way that only he ever seemed to see, whenever he asked her about her stories. It made him wonder just how often she actually shared with other people. He knew she was self-conscious about it, but he had read some and she had no cause to be. She was  _extremely_  talented, her writing style captivating and easy, her characters relatable and believable. “I’ve started a new story,” she gushed. “Now with my other one on its way to Eric.” Her gaze intensified, her gray-blue eyes boring into his. “Thank you again, for doing that.”

“You deserve it,” Tom replied honestly. “You’re incredibly talented, Remy. And Eric is a good publisher, he knows his stuff.” He gave her a grin, watching as a blush crawled its way over her cheeks. “One day, I’ll be able to say that I’m friends with a best-selling author!”

He thought he caught her expression falter but the look was gone the next instant, a wry smirk tilting her lips. “I think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Tom,” she replied, shaking her head. She reached out and grasped his upper arm, giving it a slight squeeze. The point of contact tingled at her touch. “I should let you get settled before supper and I have a few more things to do before I can even begin to think about cleaning myself up.” She smiled. “See you in a few.”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, returning her smile. Remy stepped past him, her side brushing against him as she went, his eyes following until she disappeared behind the closed main door. Since his hands were full, he gave himself a mental slap to the forehead. “Way to act like an utter tit, Hiddleston,” he muttered, finally moving up the stairs towards his room.

“Remy’s room is just past the common room on the lower level,” Eileen said, her voice pulling his gaze upwards as she stepped from the room that must have been Henry’s for the week. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let her know.”

“Thank you,” the young man stated. “I guess I’ll see you at supper.” Eileen smiled and nodded goodbye as the door shut and she turned towards Tom.

“Same goes for me,” he proclaimed brightly, grinning at the woman that had become like a second mother to him. “I’ll probably have a bit of a lie-in. Never could sleep in the car.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Eileen chuckled, patting him affectionately on the cheek. “By the time this week is up, you’ll be well-rested and well-fed. You’re so thin, Tom.”

He laughed good-naturedly. She said something along those lines whenever he visited, whether it was true or not. “I really must introduce you to my mother,” he teased. “You two would get along swimmingly . . . although I may find the interaction detrimental to my personal life.”

“Like I said, dear, it’s a mother thing,” she replied, her eyes studying him for a moment with a calculating look. “You know, she’s always more excited when she sees your name on the register.” Tom blinked and swallowed hard, knowing exactly whom she meant. “Just . . . don’t hurt her, Tom.” She gave him another pat on the cheek and moved around him down the stairs.

So that was the wink she’d given Remy. He stood completely still, fighting to comprehend the situation he had just been placed in.

From the moment he’d seen her six years ago, he’d found her attractive. It was difficult not to, really. Her chestnut curls with maroon streaks begged to be wrapped around his fingers and her smooth curves screamed to be caressed by his fingers, lips, and tongue. But her father was protective, and rightfully so, with their business. Besides, it had been the most enjoyable experience getting to know her.

Remy was almost heartbreakingly loyal and compassionate. She was careful with her trust but when she gave it, it was deep and devastating on both sides when broken. He had seen it with cheating boyfriends and false best friends over the past six years, holding her on more than one occasion when her heart had been broken. How anyone could do that to the woman he knew would never cease to astound him.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he started towards his room once again, feeling a small flame of hope ignite inside him. He recalled the moment when their semi-formal business acquaintance shifted into an actual friendship. It had been either his second or third visit. She’d been curled up in the common room downstairs watching his favorite film,  _Heat_ , alone. It had been her first time and he had convinced her to restart it so they could watch it from the beginning. The movie turned into a discussion about film, then theatre, then anything and everything until it had been four in the morning and they were both yawning.

The rest, as they say . . .

He was unsure as to when it had morphed into more than friendship for him, but he knew he definitely wanted more. The only thing that had held him back was Remy. She never treated him as more than a friend, a brother, almost. But the words her mother had uttered, the hope that now all but surged through him . . . it was dizzying.

He laid down on the bed, letting his mind wander, imagining her mouth moving in time with his as their tongues fought for dominance. His hands traced the toned lines of her body, reveling in her supple curves that hid what he knew to be a tight stomach and strong core. They’d indulged in the acreage’s lake for a late night swim on one of his summer visits, the result being a cold shower for him once they got back.

He felt his jeans tighten and his cock twitch as his thoughts continued and knew he was most likely quickly on his way towards that same ending. The suites were quiet but not completely soundproof and Henry was just barely down the hall.

But he had the week to act on the flickering flame of hope that burned . . . and he wasn’t going to waste a single opportunity. Starting tonight.

* * * * *

* * * * *

I stared at my door from the bed, my legs pulled tight against my chest with my chin on my knees as I sat huddled in the exact center of the mattress. But I didn’t see the weathered wood barrier that my dad had painstakingly crafted from the old sliding barn doors when the building was renovated. My thoughts were on the dinner I had just sat through, each moment playing over and over in my mind.

The only other person who knew that I had feelings for our current celebrity guest was my mother, which she decided to broadcast in front of him.

It wasn’t like I hadn't known it was happening, either, my changing feelings. Though it had taken a rather long time for me to admit it to myself. His first visit had been six years ago, just after his major success in the Marvel movies. A co-star that had stayed with us previously suggested the place as somewhere to escape, a fact Tom never seemed to stop proclaiming as true. Many guests we had after that were thanks to his support.

My parents bought the land a few years after I was born, intending to use it as a standard bed and breakfast, but their very first guest changed that rather quickly. Before they could even get any promotion out, Tom Hanks literally stumbled upon our out-of-the way location. He stayed three days, so enchanted was he by the location, by my parents, and-according to my mom and dad-by me. I was young, maybe seven or eight, but I don’t have a massive amount of memories concerning him other than the random stories I recalled him telling me after dinner each night.

Thanks to an almost off-handed suggestion of his, my parents decided to keep the hotel promoted through word of mouth only, encouraging Mr. Hanks to send his friends. He took a business card and made a promise, and, surprisingly, we were getting calls within the next week from different celebrities asking for rooms.

Over the years, we all grew a bit desensitized to the feeling of awe that famous people tend to induce in the general public. There was the odd moment, with all of us but more so with me, especially during my teenage and college years. Tom was the first celebrity I had seriously considered breaking my father’s unspoken rule of celebrities being off-limits for. He had always given me a smile, always listened to me despite my tendencies to fly into tangents of random thoughts, and encouraged me with my writing. Hell, he even found me a publisher.

And he was gorgeous. I’d always had a thing for blue eyes, and his were no exception. They changed color too, depending on light or mood, so I never knew exactly what color they were going to be. His smile left me a bit weak in the knees and his laugh never failed to send shivers down my spine. Many nights were spent imagining what it would be like to bury my fingers in his ginger-blonde curls as he teased me to the edge of pleasure with his sensuous fingers and devilish tongue.

It was like the universe was against me, really, because I knew that nothing could come of these feelings. He had a life far away from my little Colorado haven, very far away. And I was hardly on the same level. Besides, I was the friend who he let cry on his shoulder when her heart was broken, the little sister-type that watched weird movies and listened to strange music.

But tonight’s family dinner . . .

It was like he couldn’t stop touching me, his fingers finding mine whenever we exchanged plates or his leg pressing against mine under the table. My rational mind tried to make excuses, that it was an accident when our hands brushed . . .  _every time_  I passed him a serving dish. And he always sat that way, with his legs splayed wide. I’d seen the interviews. But how did that account for the way he would move his leg up and down, rubbing against me?

My body gave an involuntary shudder at the memory, my thoughts finding far more lascivious notions as they turned the corner to delve into my fantasies. I gave a low moan and shifted as the ache between my legs grew too strong for me to ignore any longer. At least I could have him in my dreams.

My hips lifted from the bed, my dark blue jeans quickly finding the floor and followed by my teal sweater a moment later. Goosebumps rippled over my skin as it adjusted to the cooler air, my fingertips leaving trails of heat as they slid over my collarbone and to my breasts, kneading them through my lacy black bra. I moaned again, a bit louder, as the sensitive peaks grew harder under my ministrations and a rush of wet heat flooded between my thighs. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the thought that he was just upstairs whispered through but it only served to fuel my arousal, even though I knew he wouldn’t hear.

My eyes slid shut and his greeted me, those gorgeous orbs a brilliant blue against the darkness of my bedroom in my fantasy, glowing up at me as he kissed his way to the valley between my breasts. I could almost feel his lips on my skin, my back arching as my fingers continued to knead and tease, shockwaves of pleasure scorching straight to my core as I pinched and pulled my erect nipples through the fabric.

It was his slender fingers that tripped over my stomach instead of mine, his fingers that played along the edge of my mis-matched lime green panties before delving inside them to caress my swollen lips. My moans grew louder as I teased myself, touching every inch of my sex except the one place that throbbed, begged to be. “Oh, god,” I groaned, sliding my pointer finger as deep as I could inside me. “Yes, Tom, yes.”

My thumb drew circles over my clit as I started a slow rhythm in and out with my finger, my breathing turning into panting when I added a second, imagining his fingers buried deep inside me and his tongue lapping at the bundle of nerves my thumb continued to torture.

“Fuck, yes,” I cried, the familiar burning of my orgasm starting to build in the pit of my stomach and tingle in my toes. I was lost now to anything other than my fantasy and my fingers, Tom’s deep, sensual voice joining into the imagined seduction. He plied me with murmured words of adoration between laps at my sex, my release getting closer and closer as my fingers began to move faster and faster, pushing harder and harder. His name became a chant, falling from my lips with increasing volume as I steadily climbed towards the edge.

“Remy, what are you doing?!?” Tom exclaimed, his voice coming from the doorway of my room.

I screamed, my fingers jerking free as I was wrenched unceremoniously from my fantasy and into a rather startling reality. My body rolled off the far edge of my bed, instinct forcing me to find a way to cover myself up, and I popped my head over the edge to stare at him. “T-To-Tom?” I stammered, feeling the blush spread from the roots of my hair all the way down to my toes.

* * * * *

He stared at her as the door shut behind him, the only thing visible from his vantage point in the doorway were her head and just barely her bare shoulders. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her eyes, the blue-gray orbs filled with apprehension, fear, and desire.

He’d decided on a walk after supper, Remy having run off at the first chance she’d been given, and hoped that it would settle his nerves and clear his head. She had not reacted how he’d expected, although it wasn’t like he had been extremely obvious in what he wanted. Apparently subtlety was not the best way to go about this particular situation, which he should have realized. Remy had dealt with far too many false relationships, platonic or otherwise, to appreciate anything other than a brutally honest and open approach.

What he hadn’t expected was to return to his name being all but screamed from the room past the common room. He’d rushed towards the sound, terrified that she was in trouble, only to stop short at the sight that greeted him: Remy, stretched out on her bed, mostly naked, with her back arched in obvious pleasure as her fingers worked her sex over furiously. All whilst chanting his name.

His exclamation passed his lips before he could stop it, her answering scream making him jump slightly. He studied her for a long moment. "Come here, Remy," he prompted, his tone much softer as they continued their stare down. Her eyes widened and she shook her head emphatically, the silence almost deafening between them, broken only by her nervous panting. "Please."

She obeyed after a short hesitation, slowly pushing to her feet and moving around the bed, her arms wrapped protectively around herself in a desperate effort to stay covered. Her steps faltered slightly as his sharp inhale of breath reached her ears, but she kept moving. He could feel his eyes widen appreciatively, his gaze sliding down her form. “I’ll . . . I’ll, uh, just get dressed,” Remy muttered, reaching for the pile of discarded clothing at their feet.

“Don’t,” he ordered, his voice husky and sounding slightly choked as his hand shot out and wrapped around her arm. “Please, don’t.” He turned her back to face him with a gentle tug; meeting her gaze for an instant before letting his eyes wander over her body once again. Her skin was flushed with desire, every inch that was bared to him glowing with her longing. He’d never been more enraptured, his voice barely louder than a whisper when he breathed her name. “Remy . . .”

“Tom, please,” she begged, pulling at his grasp. Her discomfort echoed in her eyes, but he couldn’t let her go. Not now.

His free hand found her hair, his long fingers grasping the silken strands as he crushed his lips against hers. Remy froze, stunned, and he hesitated. He knew it was a rather abrupt move, but the time for subtle was over. It was his turn to jump as her body suddenly shifted, pushed into his, and her lips returned his caresses with equal fervor. The hope inside him flared a bright white.

Tom nibbled at her lower lip, slipping his tongue into her mouth as she loosed a moan, his own following soon after. She fought him for dominance in their kiss, tongue sliding over his, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers burying in his hair while his found her waist, holding her tight against him, never wanting to let her go.

“Tom,” she whispered, her panting breaths washing over his temple as he released her lips to explore the smooth, soft skin of her neck. “What are you doing?”

He smirked at her echo of his words to her, nipping lightly at the pulse point in her neck and making her gasp as he soothed over the slight, red mark with his tongue. “Something I’ve wanted to for a long time,” he murmured between kisses, making his way up to her ear and pulling the lobe into his mouth. He teased the sensitive flesh with his teeth, reveling in her shudders and gasping moans under his torture.

“A . . . a long . . . time?” she asked, tilting her head to give him better access as he returned to tease her neck.

“Mmmm,” he hummed agreeably. “A very long time.” He lifted his head, returning his gaze to hers as a small smirk tugged at his lips. “And how long have you been screaming my name when you make yourself orgasm?” Her flush returned, this time coloring her skin in embarrassment, and she studiously avoided his eyes. He loosed a light laugh. “Don’t be ashamed, my darling girl,” he soothed, releasing her curls to gently glide his fingers over her cheek to grip her chin, forcing her eyes to his. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight.”

Her lips parted, eyes wide, as she digested his words, but all he saw was the flame that flared into life in the gray-blue depths: a flame that matched the one burning deep inside him. The glowing orbs followed him as he leaned close, stopping so his lips just barely brushed against hers when he spoke. “Answer the question, love,” he ordered softly. “How long?”

She inhaled a shaky breath, her eyes locked with his. He felt the shift in power, the surge of her confidence as it rushed through her, her grip on his neck tightening and her body molding to his with purpose. She smirked. “A very long time,” she murmured, and then her lips were on his.

The kiss was frantic, desperate, hungry, her hands pulling at his shirt as he backed her towards her vacated bed, the pair of them collapsing against the mattress with a slight bounce. Remy gave a breathless laugh as their lips disconnected, Tom returning to her neck once again. He wasn’t sure when or how, but her hands were suddenly on his bare chest, goosebumps following her fingers as she traced lines over his lean, toned torso and around to his back.

Tom groaned as her hands found the clasp of his jeans, her nimble fingers brushing over his aching erection through the rough fabric. “Remy,” he mumbled against her throat, his hands reluctantly leaving her hips to grasp at hers. “Remy, wait!” His heart clenched at the confused, fearful look that flashed through her eyes as he lifted his gaze to hers. He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her cheekbone as she leaned into his touch. “I was hoping this would be . . . a little more . . .”

Remy laughed, a low, sensual sound that he felt against his chest. “Thomas, there is nothing more that I would enjoy than to have you make love to me,” she murmured. “But you technically owe me an orgasm. I want . . . no, I  _need_  you to fuck me right now.” She shook off his other hand, resuming her task at opening his jeans.

Tom gasped as her slender fingers slid inside his boxers and wrapped around his cock, squeezing gently before stroking slowly. “Remy,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to her shoulder.

“Fuck me, Tom,” she breathed into his ear. “Please. I’ve wanted you to for so long, to have you make me forget everything except how you feel pounding into me.” Her hand sped up slightly on his shaft, her grip tightening pleasurably.

His control vanished, crumbling beneath her words and actions, and he growled, turning his head to bite her jaw and reveling in her gasp. Moving faster than he had thought was possible for himself, he stood and stripped off his clothes, his eyes watching hungrily as she tossed aside what remained of hers.

Remy stretched as he crawled back onto the bed, his mouth finding hers while his fingers delved into her dripping sex. “God, Remy,” he moaned, sliding two inside her and making her hips lurch from the mattress. “You’re so wet.”

“Tom,” she whined, digging her fingernails into his shoulder. “Don’t tease.” Her leg wrapped around his waist, heel digging into his back as she forced his hips onto hers.

He gave her a wolfish grin, adjusting appropriately and giving her just the tiniest of moments before thrusting to the hilt inside her. “Fuck,” he spat as she cried out, her tight passage fitting around him perfectly. Even if he wanted to take it slow, he doubted he could now.

Tucking his arms behind her knees, he pushed her legs back to her chest, deepening the angle of his thrusts as he began a rhythm that quickly turned frantic, needy, desperate. She felt amazing, her muscles milking him and bringing him rushing towards his release as her expression belied her own growing orgasm. “Look at me, Remy,” he growled as her neck arched and her eyes fluttered closed. He needed to see her break, needed to see the pleasure on her face as he brought her over the edge.

Her gray-blue eyes were dark, stormy as they met his, the sound of his name once again falling from her lips in a desperate chant making him move impossibly faster. “Yes, Tom,” she cried. “Oh, god, yes.” Her hand found his neck, fingernails stinging as they dug in, while the other slid between them to massage her clit. He gave a shudder as her fingers brushed him as he thrust, the gentle touch almost painful to his heightened senses. “Tom . . . I’m so . . . close.”

He could hear the pleading in her voice, the high-pitched whine unfamiliar and intoxicating, the need shining out at him from her captivating eyes. Her muscles were contracting around him, evidence of her nearing end. The roiling heat in his own gut told him that he was just as close. “Let go, sweetheart,” he ordered in a low, husky voice, never relenting in his brutal pace. “Come for me, Remy.”

Her body arched as she fell, his name leaving her lips in a broken scream as the power of her orgasm brought his crashing over him with a startling suddenness, her body clenching around him and milking him until he had just enough strength to slide free of her and collapse against her still twitching form with an extremely contented sigh.

He marveled as he lay against her, her heart beating just under his ear with a frantic rhythm as she slowly descended from her pleasure-high. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect in every way.

* * * * *

The weight of Tom’s body on top of mine was the most comforting feeling I’d felt in quite some time, the tickle of his breath against my breast sending shivers of desire up and down my spine with each exhale. And I could feel his muscles tensing underneath my fingers as I ran them up and down what I could reach of his back and neck, a heady rush of power coming over me at the fact that he trembled at my simple touch. It felt so very right, from the instant he had pushed inside me; like the last two pieces of a puzzle fitting together and the picture finally complete.

He inhaled sharply as my fingers brushed over the marks I’d made on his neck, guilt pulsing through me at the feeling of the rather deep wounds. “Sorry,” I murmured.

Tom chuckled, the sound vibrating against my stomach, and pressed a kiss to the side of my breast before lifting his head. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart,” he chastised, his eyes twinkling. “I rather like the idea of being marked by you.”

I smirked, arching an eyebrow back at him. “Do you?” I returned. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.” A sudden doubt washed over me and I retreated into myself as I held his gaze. “There . . . will be a next time?”

He shifted, sliding upwards until his face hovered over mine, his weight on his forearms as he softly stroked his long fingers through my sweat-drenched hair. “You know me, Remy,” he murmured, his gaze glued to mine. “Rarely do I entertain one night stands, something which you could never be.” He leaned down, pressing a lingering, half-chaste kiss to my lips. “No, this most definitely will happen again.” Another kiss. “And again.” He kissed my jaw, his large hand palming my breast as he feasted on my throat. “And again, as often as you’ll let me, my darling girl.”

I hummed, content, as his thumb began to paint slow circles over my nipple, the bud hardening under his attention. His words and actions rang with a sincerity that couldn’t be denied but my worries from before he’d walked into the room came crashing back with a vengeance. “Tom,” I prodded, my hand sliding up to tangle in his slightly unruly curls. They were nowhere near the mess some of his older pictures boasted, but they were longer than he’d had in the last few years and I would never tire of the feel of their silken strands between my fingers. He ignored my prompting, continuing his ministrations on my neck and breast. “Tom.” I tugged, hard enough to gain a sharp sound of protest and his eyes.

My concern must have shone in my eyes because he furrowed his brow, hurt and fear flashing through his brilliant blue eyes before he masked it. “Do you . . .  _not_  want that?” he asked, his voice tight as he fought against his emotions.

I brought my hand up and cupped his cheek, smiling slightly in no small amount of wonder as he leaned unconsciously into the touch. “I meant what I said, Tom,” I replied, keeping my voice gentle and low. “I’ve wanted this for a  _very_  long time. Wanted you. Obviously, considering what you walked in on.” I returned the smile he gave with a slightly nervous one. “And I would love for nothing more than this to continue . . .”

“But,” Tom stated, hearing the word in my voice.

“But,” I agreed. “How? You live half a world away, Tom. And travel all over for work, so, sometimes, you’re an  _entire_  world away. Not to mention, I’m hardly the right material to be a hot shot actor’s girlfriend.”

“Stop,” he ordered, his eyes burning with anger that made me push back into the mattress slightly at its strength in an effort to avoid it. “Firstly, you’re more than the ‘right material’. I wouldn’t let anyone else talk about you like that, so what makes you think I’d let you?” I simply blinked at him. “You captivate me in so many ways, Remy, you don’t even know. Just your eyes . . . god, I swear, sometimes you see right through me. You’re intelligent, loyal, caring, insanely talented, and drop-dead gorgeous.” The flush started at my cheeks but I could feel it creeping down my neck as he continued. “To me, you are every bit worthy of some hot shot actor, though it makes me incredibly jealous just  _thinking_  of you being with someone other than myself.” His gaze intensified, boring into mine with a firm severity. “Never  _ever_  let anyone, not even yourself, tell you that you are unworthy. Understand?” I nodded; too dumbfounded to form cohesive sentences, and he loosed a sigh of mixed relief and worry. “As for the second point . . . I don’t know.” He rolled onto his side, pulling me with him and wrapping his arms around me, my face tucked into the curve of his neck. “I just need to know you’re mine. I can handle long distance just knowing that.”

I chuckled, tilting my head and kissing the vein in his neck as it hummed under his skin. “Tom, I’ve been your’s since . . . since we watched  _Heat_  together, I think,” I replied. “Didn’t realize it then, obviously. Probably would have saved me a ton of problems if I had.”

Tom nuzzled my hair, inhaling deeply. “But then you wouldn’t be  _my_  Remy,” he countered. “I love your scars just as much as I love the rest of you, you know.” He froze, suddenly realizing his words. “I-I me-mean . . . uh . . .”

“Stop,” I ordered, repeating his command and pulling back to capture his gaze. He looked wary, as though I’d run, but I just smiled and reached up to smooth the hair at his temple, my voice soft when I spoke again. “And I love that about you.”

His face exploded with a brilliant grin, his relieved happiness at my coded response to his declaration visible to me for barely a moment before his lips descended upon mine, the kiss he gave me full of emotion and more passionate than the few we’d already exchanged. I moaned at the feeling of him growing hard against me once more, my hips gyrating against him and forcing him to echo the sound. “Behave,” he ordered, rolling us back to our previous position. “We did it your way already, love, now it’s my turn.” He gave me a knowing smirk. “We can worry about the hows and whys later.” His fingers stroked a trail down my cheek before settling at my jaw, his thumb tracing my lips. “Because we  _will_  make this work. But, right now, I want to show the woman I’m in love with just how beautiful she is, just how amazing she is, and how I am never  _ever_  letting her go.”

Tom’s lips claimed mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth instantly to trace teeth and gums before plundering the dark cavern beyond. His hands drew trails of fire over my skin as he traced my curves, settling on my breasts after a moment. He kneaded them, teasing my nipples into hardened peaks and making me moan.

My fingers stroked his back as he kissed his way down my neck and over my collarbone, where he took time to mark me yet again with his teeth, feeling his lean muscles ripple as he captured a nipple and began to swirl his tongue around and around, my back arching into him. “You taste so good,” he murmured, lifting his head after a brief moment. The look in his gaze was decidedly mischievous. “I wonder if you taste this good  _everywhere_  . . .” I felt my breathing catch as I watched him kiss his way over my stomach, dipping his tongue into my belly button briefly before settling between my legs. His blue eyes glowed up at me as he kissed the inside of my thigh, making a path up to the apex before repeating the motion on the other leg. “So wet,” he murmured, his warm breath washing over my mound and making me shudder. A choked noise escaped my throat as he slid his tongue from my entrance up to my clit, but he stopped just short of the bundle of nerves and repeated the motion. “Mmmmm.” He pressed a kiss to my swollen lips, his amused gaze locking with my pleading one, my hips bucking off the mattress slightly.

“Tom,” I whined, burying my fingers in his hair and tugging him towards where I ached. “Please . . .”

He resisted the tug, pulling away from me just slightly. “Remy, what, exactly, were you imagining when I walked in on you?” he asked. I tried to bring him back, but he clucked his tongue. “Tell me or I’ll stop.”

I narrowed my eyes down at him, making an aggravated sound. “This,” I replied, my voice raspy and filled with need. “Your tongue on my clit while you finger-fucked me.”

“Such a filthy mouth you have, my dear,” he chastised, smirking. “So, like this?” I cried out as he plunged two fingers deep inside me, starting a slow rhythm, before finally dragging his tongue over my throbbing nub.

“Yes!” I cried as he curled his fingers inside me, massaging my walls, and pulled my clit into his mouth, suckling. My hands clutched at the sheets and I was certain my fingernails had poked through the material from the grip I had. “Oh, god, yes . . . don’t stop . . . please, don’t stop.” His free hand pressed against my hips, holding me down as I tried to thrust against his face, my orgasm burning and tingling as I neared release. His teeth closed gently around the bundle and I was lost, wave after wave of pleasure washing over me with such strength that my hearing dulled and I saw white spots for a moment.

Tom wiped his chin on the sheets before sliding up to claim another kiss, letting me taste myself mixed with his flavor. “I was right,” he murmured. “You taste that good  _everywhere_.”

Before I could fully recover, he pushed inside me and thrust steadily, letting his motions and my slowly fading orgasm work together to bring me to my peak yet again, his body trembling with the effort to keep up the pace as his own release neared. With a few jagged thrusts, he came, releasing into me until he once again collapsed against me with slightly shaking limbs.

* * * * *

Many hours and multiple orgasms later, we laid under my blankets, Tom’s torso pressed against my back as he spooned me from behind, his arm wrapped around me possessively and holding me tight against him while he pressed sleepy, wet kisses to my neck and shoulder. I reached down and covered the hand on my stomach, intertwining my fingers with his and earning myself a pleased hum from the man behind me. A yawn pushed itself free of my lips and I snuggled into the pillow, letting myself revel in the feeling of Tom’s warmth wrapped around me. “You are amazing,” he breathed.

It was my turn to hum, squeezing his hand before bringing it to my lips and pressing an open kiss to his palm. “Mine,” I whispered, making him chuckle.

He flung his leg over mine, pulling me even tighter against him as the room round me began to fade as I fell under sleep’s spell. Just before it claimed me, his voice rang in my ear. “Yours.”


End file.
